


Out of Nowhere

by airandangels



Category: Chronicles of Narnia (Movies), Chronicles of Narnia - C. S. Lewis
Genre: Angst, Fluff, M/M, Romance, Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-06-16
Updated: 2011-06-16
Packaged: 2017-10-20 11:53:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 16,537
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/212522
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/airandangels/pseuds/airandangels
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>King Caspian reappears in Edmund Pevensie's life.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Out of Nowhere

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [World Reversed Dressing](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/3571) by lamamama. 



> This story began as a prompt for a drawing by lamamama on Tumblr. I then wrote the first portion thinking of it as a stand-alone story, and kept it 'clean,' but eventually fell to the temptation to write something explicit, leading to the full story. I actually had to stop myself trying to write the rest of their lives.  
> This obviously departs from the books' continuity, because it's always made me both sad and cross that really, Caspian had a pretty awful life, given what happened to his wife and his son, and Edmund and his siblings never got to have much of a life at all. Therefore, I declare this a parallel universe, in which Pevensies actually get to grow up and experience Life and not get shut out of Heaven because they like lipstick and nylons. (I'm referring to Susan, here; although I've written Edmund as gay I don't think he's quite adventurous enough for lipstick and nylons, not at the time of this story anyway.)  
> I ticked 'Underage' because Edmund is under eighteen, but I am thinking of him as about sixteen, since that's roughly how old he looks to me in the film version of Dawn Treader - and yes, I am imagining them looking like Skandar Keynes and Ben Barnes. So, you know, nothing *creepy*.

Finchley was grey. Grey sky, grey buildings, grey pavements. Well, there was some brown too. And some drab, gungy green. Edmund leaned his forehead on the windowpane and loathed it. He supposed he should be glad he was allowed to mind the house himself, that he and Lucy weren't required to stay with the Scrubbs any more (Eustace had got a lot better, but his parents were still pretty intolerable), but England was always particularly ugly when Narnia was fresh in your mind. Out in the country it would be different, he supposed. Better. If the sun shone.

He turned away and walked over to his bed, flopping down on his back. Never again to see Narnia. Never again to be a king. And long, long years to trudge through before anyone would see him as a man or trust him with anything more complicated or important than minding a terraced house. No more Aslan. He had worked out what he meant about his other name, but that was no comfort. Just _Jesus?_ The coldness of churches was supposed to take the place of Narnia's sun? And that was a terrible thought, because he was pretty sure he couldn't expect to go anywhere near heaven feeling that way. Maybe in time he could be resigned to it, and that would be good enough. At least he didn't have a problem _believing._

He rolled onto his side and tried to find something to look forward to. Lucy had gone to the shops and she might find something nice for their tea. _ITMA_ would be on the wireless tonight. A grilled sausage and the BBC Light Programme, what fun.

There was a rustling noise from inside the wardrobe. Mice? He thought about going downstairs and finding a trap, but didn't start to move. He thought about Reepicheep, and wondered if his little coracle was somehow paddling through Outer Space. The mad physics master at school, the one who kept a telescope on the roof under a sort of little hut he'd built, thought people would go to Outer Space after the war. Perhaps he'd be considered old enough for _that_ , not that it appealed very much.

Another rustle, and a thump that sounded much too big for a mouse. Not rats! He jumped down from the bed disgustedly and strode over to the wardrobe. His hand was on the door when it burst open from inside. He jumped back, not wanting to be bitten by a mad rat, but not fast enough or far enough, because a man fell out on top of him. His head bounced off the floor with a clunk and he saw stars.

And then he saw Caspian.

Caspian, an inch from his nose, dark hair hanging into his face, eyes wide and startled.

'Ed!' Caspian scrambled up onto his knees. 'I'm sorry. Are you all right?'

'I'm fine. What are you doing here?'

'Well... I.. was trying to return your torch,' Caspian said, holding it up, giving a helpless little laugh. 'I knew it was ridiculous, but I was thinking of the old tales, of how Lucy found the way through the back of a wardrobe to Narnia, and I... I went into the back of my wardrobe and hoped!'

'But if it were as easy as that, we'd have been coming and going all this time,' Edmund protested, pushing himself up on his elbows. 'You must have done something else.'

'Perhaps it helped that I was holding an object from your world?' Caspian suggested. 'It might have... wanted to go home, and pulled me through?' He clicked the torch's switch. 'It doesn't light up any more.'

'The battery must be flat,' Edmund said. 'I can get a new one.'

'When it wouldn't light,' Caspian said, his face softening, 'I just missed you so much. I thought you'd know how to mend it. It was the middle of the night, or I wouldn't have done a babyish thing like getting into a wardrobe and making wishes.'

'It's all right,' Edmund said, embarrassed. He was suddenly very conscious that Caspian was still straddling over him, and he scooted backwards and sat up properly. 'I've missed you too. I miss everyone.'

Caspian jumped to his feet and looked around. 'So - so this is your world?' He glanced towards the window and asked, almost shyly, 'May I look?'

'Feel free,' Edmund said, getting up and gesturing awkwardly to the outside world. He was suddenly reminded of a bit in _The Story of the Amulet_ , when the time-travelling children brought back a woman from England's utopian future to Victorian times, and she looked out a window and was horrified by how dark and dirty everything was. He winced in anticipation of Caspian's reaction. He walked over to the window with his face alight with interest. It didn't exactly fall when he saw the street outside, but it went still.

'Sorry,' Edmund said. 'It's not beautiful like your world, not around here, anyway.'

'It's just different,' Caspian said, smiling politely. He leaned forward keenly. 'But what's that?'

Edmund joined him at the window and had a look. 'It's a bicycle.'

'The man's riding it like a horse, but it isn't alive, is it?'

'No, it's a machine. I've got one too.'

'Really? Can I try?' Caspian asked, sounding eager.

'Of course you can - maybe not in those clothes, though. People might see you.' Edmund cast about him. 'Some of Peter's stuff's still here. It would probably fit you. Let's see.' In a few minutes, he had Caspian kitted out with grey flannel trousers, a grey flannel shirt, and because that was a lot of unrelieved grey, a bottle-green knitted pullover. Caspian was absolutely fascinated by the elastic waistband in Peter's underpants.

'It stretches out and snaps back! Stretches out and snaps back! Like a bowstring!' he said delightedly.

'I made a pretty good catapult with knicker elastic once,' Edmund admitted, 'but Susan boxed my ears because I cut up her knickers. Stop playing with them and put them on. I'm going to find you some shoes. Peter's are too small but you might fit Dad's.'

His father's shoes were slightly too big, but wearable with newspaper stuffed into the toes. Caspian had some difficulty with the sock garters and the braces, although he continued to be thrilled by their elasticity, twanging the braces back and forth.

'Put on the pullover before you get cold, you fool,' Edmund said, smiling. He scrunched it up and tried to tussle it over Caspian's head. There was some amicable pushing and shoving over that, but they managed to get it on, and the right way round too.

'Your clothes feel funny,' Caspian said, his cheeks red and his hair mussed. He shook it back into place and Edmund wished for the ten thousandth time that his own hair would do that bouncy wavy shiny sort of thing instead of just flopping around like an idiot.

'I like Narnian clothes a lot better,' he said. 'They're just more comfortable.'

'You look better in them too,' Caspian said. 'What do you do with this part? Is it a sash?' He held up a tie.

'Here, let me help you with that.' Edmund turned up Caspian's collar and wrapped the tie around. He had to concentrate for this because he was doing it backwards, and muttered the little mnemonic his father had taught him when he was seven and about to go away to school. 'Rabbit hops over the log, rabbit crawls under the log, rabbit runs around the log...'

'Ed,' said Caspian gently.

'I've nearly got it. Just hold still.'

'Ed,' he said again, and touched his face. It took Edmund a long, astonished moment to realise he was being kissed, seriously kissed on the lips, for the first time in his life. The Golden Age didn't count; that was another life in another world. Caspian's lips were warm and soft and his beard prickled and wonderfully and terribly the tip of his tongue was brushing against Edmund's lower lip. His face felt huge and hot and idiotic, and he realised his eyes were wide open, not closed like when people kissed in films, so he quickly closed them and only then realised he shouldn't be letting Caspian kiss him in the first place, let alone kissing back. His housemaster had warned him about this when he and Parker had been too chummy.

'I know it's hard to see the harm when you're so young, Pevensie Minor,' he'd said, 'but believe me, you must put a stop to this sort of thing right now before it can spoil your life.' He hadn't known what it meant then but he had a much clearer idea now and knew he had to be very, very careful. Caspian's tongue slipped between his lips and he lost all common sense and just hung on, his heart thumping, until the kiss ended naturally.

'You're so lovely,' Caspian breathed. 'I never told you properly.' He ran his hands down Edmund's arms and took his hands, stroking their palms with his thumbs.

'What about...' He knew he knew her name but it wouldn't come. 'Whatshername. The star's daughter.'

'She's beautiful. And clever, and kind, and good... and she'll be a great queen, and a wonderful mother to princes and princesses. But she's not you.' His thumbs circled, and Edmund's hands burned, and he ached for another kiss.

'This sort of thing isn't normal,' he said desperately.

'What do you mean? It's perfectly normal. Well. Normal for Telmarines.'

'If it's all that normal, why didn't you do anything like this on the _Dawn Treader?'_

'Not enough privacy,' Caspian said, sounding surprised. 'But we're alone here, aren't we?'

'Yes,' Edmund said, and his voice squeaked embarrassingly. 'Lucy won't be home for ages... she's going to the shops, and the library, and... and there's nobody else...'

'This is a strange castle for a king and queen,' Caspian said with a little smile. He glanced around the narrow room, and asked hesitantly 'Edmund... are you poor?'

'What? No!' He felt stung. 'We're middle class!'

'I don't know what that is. It doesn't matter to me, though. I love _you_ , Edmund. King Edmund the Just, king of my heart.' Before Edmund could decide whether he was really offended or if Caspian was a snob or if _he_ was being a snob, he kissed him again, deep and soft and warm, dropped his hands and wound his arms around his waist, pulling him close with a hand on his back. His heart hammered against his ribs and he was humiliatingly aware that this was an awful lot like the sort of dream that required you to wash your pyjamas in the morning.

 _I don't even know how to kiss_ , he thought, _let alone film-star kisses like this._ He didn't know how to use his tongue like Caspian did, how to do it without just feeling like he was licking like a dog. He let his head tip back, even though that made him feel like the girl, and licked anyway, stroking his tongue against Caspian's and against the roof of his mouth.

Caspian drew back and stroked his hands through Edmund's hair and down to frame his face. 'I've been writing the most terrible poetry about you. All midnight hair and peat-pool eyes and raspberry lips... and the little sun-kisses on your nose.'

'They're freckles,' Edmund said.

'Sun-kisses,' Caspian repeated, and kissed his nose in turn. 'More poetic. Nothing rhymes with freckles.'

'Speckles.'

'Edmund... I said I love you. I think even in your world, it's customary to say something back.'

'Oh! I'm sorry... I was all... I was flustered.'

'And still...' Caspian was starting to look hurt.

'I don't - I mean - I wasn't ready, and I didn't think... oh Caspian.'

'If you don't...'

'I think I do.' He felt a great, astonished smile spreading over his face. 'I really do.' He flung his arms around Caspian's shoulders and kissed him with all his might, hurting his top lip against his own teeth. He didn't care. Caspian tightened his arms around him and lifted him off his feet and swung him around, and when they bumped into the bed and fell onto it with a crash of springs, he didn't care about that either.

 

* * *

 

Caspian was on top of him, his body warm and strong and heavy, his mouth hot and quick and wet, and it felt like fighting, like wrestling, which inspired him to push up and tumble him over, rolling astride him and sitting up, pinning his shoulders, laughing.

'Got you.'

'I let you,' Caspian said, grinning up at him and grabbing his legs, rubbing his thighs. 'I could have you on your back again in a moment.'

'Well, that's just because you're bigger and older and stronger and generally - Caspian, don't touch me _there_.' Caspian's hand had gone right up his leg and in between, cupping over the place where his stiff penis made a peak in his trousers, palming it and rubbing.

'Why not? Doesn't it feel nice? It shouldn't hurt...' It felt impossibly good, and the pressure of his hand was making it harder than ever.

'You - you just shouldn't - if it goes stiff you should leave it alone and it'll get better on its own.' He could feel his face flooding with red heat.

'Who told you that? If it goes stiff you should rub it and stroke it until it feels too good to bear and you come.'

'But that's terribly bad for you.' Edmund was sweating now, but it felt _good_ and he could not make himself take his hands off Caspian's shoulders and pull his rubbing hand away, as he should. 'It makes you dull and slow and weak.'

'Edmund! I do it every single day. Am I dull and slow and weak?'

'Nnnhhh...'

'If you _don't_ do it you'll be grumpy and your balls will ache. Don't you know they're making spunk all the time? If you don't let some out it builds up and your humours go wrong.'

'That's... that's why some comes out at night while you sleep... that's all right...'

'If it's all right for it to come out on its own, why would it be bad for you to help it come out?'

'I don't know,' Edmund whimpered. His balls ached _now._ He usually tried not to think too much about them, which was next to impossible, they were so tender and active, always shrinking up or dropping down or getting kicked or kneed or punched by bloody Peter.

'Or for me to squeeze some out now?' He squeezed through the cloth.

'Oh... oh...'

'Poor, poor Ed, who's been telling you these silly things?'

'Everyone!' he squeaked.

'That's terrible. You should be able to enjoy your cock. I bet it's beautiful. May I?' He reached for the top button of Edmund's trousers.

'No. Yes,' Edmund said.

'Which will it be?'

'Yes.' He closed his eyes tight and felt Caspian fumbling with his buttons, opening his flies, pulling down his underpants. The elastic slipped between Caspian's fingers and flicked his taut balls. 'Ow!'

'Sorry! Sorry. Oh, but your cock _is_ beautiful. Push your hips out. Show it to me. Be _proud_ of it, Ed, it's a beauty. Open your eyes and _look_ at it.' There was a pause, and then Caspian said 'I won't keep rubbing it unless you open your eyes and look.'

Edmund opened his eyes.

'Got you,' Caspian said smugly.

'Will you do it now?'

'Look at it.'

Edmund looked, seeing the usual shaming sight; a ridiculous long stiff pink thing with a crimson head, sticking out of a nest of black hair. 'It's just my willy,' he mumbled.

'Little boys have willies. Men have cocks. Or dicks or pricks, but I like cock best.' Caspian gave him an encouraging smile and rubbed it between his thumb and forefinger. 'Look how pretty it is. Look how the skin moves back and forth - the skin is so soft and fine but the flesh inside is so hard. Look how the head shines.'

'Oh... oh...' He was shivering, humiliated when something clear leaked from the tip. He couldn't be wetting himself.

'You're getting really close. This is... it's like priming the pump. Ready for the spunk to flow through. Enjoy it.' He touched his forefinger to the slit in the tip and drew it away, stretching out a clear strand of sticky wetness. 'Please enjoy it, Ed. You look like I'm hurting you. Am I? Is it that tender? I'll stop if you want me to.'

'Don't stop!'

'Are you sure?'

'Yes! Please!'

'Then I'm going to really rub now, all right?' Caspian wrapped his hand around the stiff shaft and tugged it up and down, rapidly, making Edmund's hips jerk and drawing a thin wail from his throat.

'Are you _sure_ that doesn't hurt?'

'Do more do more do more!' Enormous swelling pleasure was building up, his penis feeling so huge and hot it was hardly real, it was a dream, it was all those dreams that made him wake up sticky and wet and ashamed. His hips shook and his buttocks clenched and Caspian's warm strong hand moved and squeezed and he felt the most astonishing shooting rush from the root of his balls. The pleasure peaked and burst and he was coming, his penis spurting strands and blobs of white from its swollen head and covering Caspian's hand. All the strength went out of his arms and legs and he flopped forward to lie on Caspian's belly, shivering blissfully. Caspian held him, a hand for his penis and an arm for his back, stroking both slowly and soothingly.

'Shhh,' he whispered. 'Shhh.'

'Now,' Edmund croaked, 'now it hurts a little.'

'Sorry. It can be very tender after you come.' Caspian slid his hand away and wrapped his other arm around him, hugging him tight.

'Ohhh...'

'Do you feel any weaker or duller?' Caspian asked, and he felt his smile against the side of his face.

'I feel like I'm made of floppy india-rubber.'

'That doesn't sound dull at all.'

'Do you really do that every day?'

'It's not quite so exhausting when you're used to it. You just look forward to it as a pleasure. I wake up in the morning, and my cock is hard, so I rub it gently until I come, and it just feels sweet and lovely. Then after lunch, when I rest, I think of you and it grows hard again...'

'You think about me?'

'Of course I do. I think about how lovely you are. I let myself have a little fantasy that Lucy and Eustace didn't come on the _Dawn Treader_ , that it was just you, so I could have you in my cabin with me, in the big bed. What do you think we might have done there?' He ran his hand gently up and down Edmund's spine.

'Kissing?' Edmund suggested hesitantly.

'Mm. Lots of kissing. Stroking and rubbing... coming together.' He kissed Edmund's cheek and nuzzled at his ear. 'Do you think you could make me come?'

'I - I don't know.'

'Roll over and let me show you.' Caspian nudged him over onto his back and fumbled with his trouser buttons. 'Wait - they won't -'

'Unclip the braces,' Edmund suggested, helping him.

'I just got into these and now I want to take them off,' Caspian muttered. He pulled his trousers down and kicked them away, shoving his shoes and socks off with his feet, struggling out of the pullover. That left him in shirt, vest and underpants, with a bulge in the pants that made Edmund feel simultaneously very nervous and unbearably eager to _see._

'Now,' Caspian said, smiling sunnily, 'give me your hand, sweetheart.' He took Edmund's hand and placed it on the bulge, guiding him to feel the shape of his erection, a long thick tube that shifted gently as he pressed on it, very warm through the cotton, lying up against Caspian's lower belly and stretching the elastic waistband. Edmund nibbled at his lower lip as he felt his way along it, gingerly, up to the blunt round tip.

'You can touch it more firmly than that,' Caspian told him. 'It will be fine. Feel all over it and get to know the shape.' He was gazing up at Edmund fondly, his cheeks flushed and his eyes bright. 'Then when you're comfortable, you can have a look.'

'It feels really... I don't know, it feels _alive,_ like a _creature,'_ Edmund said. 'Long like a snake but warm like a... a mouse.'

Caspian pressed his lips together tightly for a moment, in order not to laugh at him. This hesitant rubbing was sweet but also very ticklish. He watched Edmund's face, the way his dark brows drew together, so very, very serious about this, the white of his teeth holding back the fullness of his ripe red lip. 'Do you want to see it now?' he asked.

'Um - yes.' Edmund hooked his fingers into the waistband, pulled it out and down. Caspian sighed happily as his penis sprang back against his belly, free and warm.

'It's - it's thicker than mine, and more curvy,' Edmund said. 'Is mine all right, I mean is it normal?'

'Yours is lovely. They're all different, so don't worry about it.'

'It's redder too...' He traced the underside, the thick central rib.

'Your skin is paler than mine to begin with. Beautiful, creamy skin. Oh, Ed... please, don't just tickle it. _Grip_ it. That's right! That's wonderful! Hold it. And slide your hand up and down. _Yes._ Do you do this for yourself?'

'I try not to. And - and when I share a room with someone else, and I nearly always have to, he might hear, he might notice. And he'd be disgusted.'

'Nearly everyone does it, Ed. Ohh... and you're actually very good at it.'

'Still. I'd - I'd rather do it for you, with just us two alone.'

'Mmm... you can do that, then.' He flexed his hips, pushing into Edmund's grip. 'Keep rubbing. And kiss me.'

Edmund hesitated, leaned in and brushed Caspian's lips with his own, feeling his way into the kiss a little at a time, working out how he could use his lips and tongue together, gaining confidence as it felt better and better, as Caspian thrust into his hand and moaned delightedly.

'I love you,' Caspian whispered. 'Oh, I love you!' He put his hand over Edmund's and urged him to rub faster. 'Yes, yes, yes!' He gasped and closed his eyes, his body arching as his penis twitched and spat. 'Oh, my Ed... oh...' He relaxed, breathing heavily, head falling back on the bed, unable to stop smiling.

'That was quite easy,' Edmund said, sounding so surprised that Caspian had to laugh, an affectionate chuckle that got him a shove in the ribs. 'Don't make fun of me! I'm new to all this.'

'It's very easy. I mean, there are all sorts of other things we can do, but that seemed like the simplest, nicest way to start.' He wrapped his arms around Edmund and hugged him close, holding him for a long time, breathing in the scent of his hair, different in this other world, more soapy.

'Love you too,' Edmund murmured against his neck, better late than never. 'We should tidy up and get dressed... Lucy'll be back soon.'

'No... stay away, Lucy, stay away.'

'Oh, come on. You like Lu.'

'I love her, but I want to be alone with you.'

'I do too,' Edmund said, looking a little shy about it, 'but we should be sensible. What happens if she comes home and we're lying around half undressed?'

'I don't know. What does happen? Would she mind? Wouldn't she just be happy that we love each other? Lucy is the sweetest girl in the world.'

Edmund stewed over that. Lucy _was_ the sweetest girl and it sounded persuasive, but surely this sort of thing just had to be secret no matter what. 'Well, it would be embarrassing for her if she saw us. Girls don't want to see this sort of thing.'

'Well, they usually don't care about seeing their brother's sort of thing,' Caspian said, laughing. 'And I promise not to show her my sort of thing, because that's just for you.'

'Oh no... there's... there's stuff on my shirt. And your trousers.' Edmund sat up, pulled out his handkerchief, spat on it and started dabbing.

'It will wash out,' Caspian said calmly.

'Caspian. Lucy does our washing. I'm not asking her to do that.'

' _Lucy_ does the _washing?'_ Caspian looked stunned.

'Look, we're not kings and queens here. We're quite ordinary. I mean, we're lucky in many ways. As I said, we're middle class. We have education, and a good home, and all of that, but we don't have servants or anything. Before the war we did have a cleaning lady who did the wash as well, but she had to go and work in a factory. Things are really, really different here.' To his horror, he felt tears rising up, and concentrated fiercely on keeping them down.

'Things are... grey. And small, and dull, and cheap and drab. You've got a castle and a ship. I've got a room in my parents' house, and a bike. I mean, it isn't like this all over the world. There are glorious places, like... America, I suppose, and Africa and the South Seas. But it costs a lot to go there, and I haven't any money, and travelling is difficult anyway because there's a terrible war on. It's called a world war, and it's the second one we've had. I want to fight, but I'm two years too young. And there's no magic, and no Aslan. There's Jesus Christ, but you never get to see him or talk with him. He hasn't actually been in the world for nearly two thousand years.' It was no good, he was crying now, because the world was so awful and there was no way out of it except the one way that would certainly make things worse.

'I didn't mean to get like this,' he said, trying frantically to sniff back the flow. 'I'm happy! I'm so happy to see you!'

'Oh, my Edmund,' Caspian said softly. He sat up and wrapped his arms around him, putting his head on his shoulder. 'I didn't know. How could the whole world be at war?'

'I don't think Switzerland is,' Edmund said, wiping his nose on Caspian's shoulder. 'But enough of the world is for it to count.'

'Why won't they let you fight? You could lead. You would be wonderful.'

'I'm just a boy. It's all different here. I wouldn't be allowed to lead anyone for years yet, even if they did let me join the army.'

'I wish I could understand why Aslan doesn't want you to live in Narnia any more. How can you be happy here?'

'I don't know. Maybe I'm not supposed to be happy. I'm supposed to learn to bear _not_ being happy.'

'But what _for?'_ Caspian drew back, taking Edmund's face between his hands. 'There must be some good reason. Something you need to be here to do. Perhaps you'll find a way to end this war, to bring peace. Or perhaps it's something after the war ends. I can't believe you're not supposed to be someone important, Ed. Someone glorious.' He kissed his wet cheeks, his trembling mouth.

'I'm not going to be glorious if I sit around crying, though, am I.'

'Cry here, with me, and get it over with.'

'I can't always have you, though. You'll have to go back. You're the king. You can't just stop.' He sniffed hard. 'I mean... kings _can_ stop, our king before this one did.'

'How?'

'He abdicated. Because he wanted to marry a woman who'd been divorced, and he wasn't allowed to do that and stay king. So he gave it up and his younger brother is king now. He's a good king. He's got a terrible stutter but he's good.'

'I haven't a younger brother. And I will need to marry a woman to have an heir.'

'I know. And you're such a good king. You wouldn't ever give up.'

'I wish you could be my - well, my fellow king. And we'd restore Cair Paravel... and I'd rebuild your throne... and I'd do all the war things, and you'd do all the justice things.'

'Would you be High King?' Edmund asked, managing half a smile.

'Oh, no. Not I.' A gentle kiss. 'Just king beside you. Everyone would love you, but no-one more than me.'

'It's such a beautiful idea.'

'I wish it were real.' Caspian leant his forehead against Edmund's.

'I wonder how long you can stay. I suppose, in the end, something will pull you back.'

'I'll stay every bit as long as I can, and love you every bit as much as I can.'

'And there are nice things I can show you in this world, too. I'll show you where our king lives. And the Natural History Museum, and things like that. The best things in England are a little like things in Narnia. Just a little.' He sniffed hard, and smiled bravely.

Downstairs, the front door clattered. Lucy's voice called out 'Hallo, Ed! I've got a lovely bit of fish for our tea!'

'Let's get dressed and go and say hello to Lucy,' Caspian said, and kissed Edmund's forehead.

 

* * *

 

The fish wasn't quite enough for three people, but they eked it out with a tin of baked beans. Lucy was thrilled to see Caspian again, and had no questions about what he and Edmund were up to before she got home. She loved the idea of teaching Caspian to ride a bike, so Edmund tried to do that while she cooked their tea, helping Caspian wobble up and down the back garden.

'It's not as good as a horse,' Caspian said, after falling off for the sixth time. 'Especially a talking horse. But it is fun.'

'Nothing is as good as a talking horse,' Edmund agreed. 'I miss mine so much.' They lay on the grass by the Anderson shelter, looking up at the cloudy sky as it darkened.

'It's strange to think of a country with only dumb animals.'

'A whole world.' Edmund let his hand lie at his side, and after a moment Caspian laid his beside it, their fingers brushing and linking.

The kitchen door opened, and Lucy called out 'Tea's ready!'

Caspian slept in Edmund's room, came into his bed, and made love to him again and again during the night, drifting between sleep and waking in each other's arms. He strove to please him with his hands, with his mouth, with all of his body, to drive out his sadness and replace it with love and joy. Edmund whimpered and shook, and came so sweetly that Caspian fell in love with him all over again.

'My darling,' he whispered, against Edmund's soft wet skin. 'My glorious sweetheart.'

'Is... is there anything else we can do?' Edmund asked.

'I could put my cock into you, but it might be too soon. I might just hurt you.'

'Where could you put it?'

'Your bottom. Remember how good it felt when I rubbed you with my fingers?'

'I couldn't believe you were doing that.'

'Didn't it feel wonderful?'

'I don't think you can get your cock in there. It's only small.'

'I can. We just need to put something on it, something soft and slippery. Butter is good.'

'Butter is rationed. We can't waste it on your cock.'

'Then... something oily? Creamy?'

'All right. Hold on. I think there's some cold cream in the bathroom cupboard.' Edmund rolled to the side of the bed.

'You want to let me?' Caspian caught him around the waist and kissed the back of his neck.

'Everything else you've done has been so wonderful. Why not? Let go, can't you? I need to get my dressing gown on.'

'Give me a kiss before you go.'

'I think I've given you a million kisses tonight.' Edmund obliged him, though.

'I'll always want one more. Mm. And one more.'

'Are you going to let me get up?'

'Mmmm... all right, now. Quick before I have to grab you again!'

Edmund pushed his feet into his slippers, wrapped his dressing gown around himself and padded off in the dark. His whole body felt strange and wonderful to him, warm and tingling and woken to new life. All of this was supposed to be wrong and wicked and unnatural, but it felt blissful and above all _loving._ He was sure he should have thought it was disgusting and unmanly and _weird_ that Caspian should want to take his penis in his mouth and lick and suck until he came, but it just made him feel overwhelmed by how much Caspian must love him, and by how incredibly soft and wet and strong his mouth was. It was stiffening up again just remembering that, and he didn't feel impatient or disappointed or disgusted with it; he felt prickles of excitement and expectation all over his body.

He found the jar of cold cream, the one Susan had left behind because it was two-thirds empty and she'd be able to get more easily in America. And lipstick! And nylons! She had been as thrilled about all of that as she had been to go to Calormen, and he only hoped this trip would turn out better for her. He stopped for a moment, as the unwelcome thought occurred that Caspian had seemed to like Susan before him. But Susan hadn't been able to come back to Narnia, and Susan wasn't here now. Was Caspian only settling for him because he was available? Well... no... he wouldn't 'settle' for a boy in place of a girl, surely. He'd have to actually want _Edmund_ , as he was.

He went back to his room, where Caspian pulled him back into bed and tore off his dressing gown and covered his face with kisses.

'Those built up while you were away!' he declared. 'I nearly burst.'

'You're mad,' Edmund told him.

'Mad with love. Now, what have you brought me? Show.'

'It's only Pond's.'

'Well, from my point of view that's faraway and exotic. Light the lamp so we can see what we're doing.'

Edmund turned on his bedside light, reflexively looking towards the window to make sure the blackout curtains hadn't been disturbed. When he and Lucy had explained to Caspian why they couldn't show a light at night, about the great death-dealing machines that flew overhead, his eyes had gone round and dark with astonishment and dread. They were still very dark, but now they looked warm and loving and full of desire. Caspian was so clearly comfortable naked, in a way that he hadn't been since he was a very little boy. He lay beside him bare to his eyes, legs spread and penis jutting up, warm and rosy.

'Aren't you ever embarrassed?' Edmund asked wistfully.

'What about? This? Why would I be embarrassed about this, when it's so useful?' He held his penis and wiggled it, smiling. 'And such fun? How many times do I need to tell you, you should just _enjoy_ yours? Grab it and say "I am the mighty King Edmund, and this is my beautiful cock".'

'I'd feel like such a twit.'

'Here, grab it, like this. Give it a rub. It feels wonderful, doesn't it?'

'All right, yes... wonderful.'

'I am the mighty King Edmund...'

'I am the mighty King Edmund,' Edmund repeated, not quite not giggling.

'And this is my beautiful cock.'

'Andthisismy - hmph! - all right, my - my very nice cock.'

'Beautiful!'

' _You_ think it's beautiful. I don't have to.'

'Do you think mine is beautiful?'

'Oh, come on, Caspian.'

'Say something nice about my cock.'

'It's a pretty colour.'

Caspian pouted at him.

'And it's very friendly.'

'Oh, all right, I'll accept that. Give me a kiss, mighty king.' He rolled on top of Edmund, kissing his lips, his chin, his neck, working his way down over chest and stomach to suckle at his balls. Edmund squirmed and gasped, spreading his legs and clenching his buttocks, shifting his weight up and down on the bed.

'Are they full of spunk again?' Caspian asked, with a low tickle of laughter in his voice.

'Shut up.'

'Well, I thought you were starting to dry up a little bit last time. All right. Roll over. Here, put the pillow under your hips to hold you up. You have a beautiful bottom too. It's as white as milk.' He laid his hands on Edmund's buttocks, let him feel the warmth for a moment, and gently pressed them apart. 'And in between, hmm... I think it's the same pink as inside a strawberry. Or a hedge-rose bud.'

'Will you... will you rub like before? I did like that.'

'Of course I will.' He started just behind Edmund's balls, gently pressing into the tenderness there and stroking up and down.

'Ohhh... oh, that feels so _hot_.'

'Then should I put on a little bit of cold cream?'

'It's a good hot.' There was a sweet little moan in Edmund's voice, and he wriggled his hips comfortably.

'But let's try hot and cold together.' He opened the jar and dipped his fingers, dabbing a white stripe along the cleft and rubbing it in. Edmund sighed and pushed back against his hand. 'And if I just keep rubbing on the - the little rosebud, it will start to relax. Doesn't that feel good?'

'Mmmhhh...'

'It's blushing pinker. Now, I'm going to push with my finger. And I want you to push back.'

'Won't that keep you out?'

'No. It's a funny thing... it just opens up.'

'But what if... um...'

'If you can feel anything is going to come out, just stop.'

'All... all right.'

'Gentle push.' His finger slipped in to the first joint and Edmund moaned. 'Gentle push.' The second joint, and a gasp. He flexed his finger, feeling how tight Edmund was, how his muscles twitched and flickered.

'Oh, my Ed, I'm not sure I'll be able to. You're right, you're very small.'

'No! I want you to.'

'But it will hurt. At first, at least.'

'I don't care. I can cope with a bit of pain.'

'It doesn't stay pain, though. My first time hurt, but I still came, and the next time hurt less and felt better, and so on...' He slid his finger back and forth, and beckoned. 'It may be all right.'

'Caspian... who'd you learn all this with?'

'Friends. In my court.'

'And it's just normal?'

'Nice and normal.' He felt for the spot that would please Edmund best, pressing through the slick inner wall.

'Aah...' Edmund arched his back and tensed all over.

'Good, or hurting?'

'Good! What the hell is that?'

'Hold still so I can find it again. There!'

'Aah! Can you - can you reach deeper?'

'Not with my finger, no.'

'Then with your cock?'

'Let's try. Just the tip first. Let me put the cream on.' He caught his breath. 'Literally cold, isn't it?' On his knees, he rubbed the head of his penis up and down the cleft, catching his breath at the pleasure of it, and pressed it into the opening. 'Gentle push,' he breathed, and felt Edmund yield to him, felt his tender flesh sink in, bit his lip and steadied himself with his hand on Edmund's hip.

'All right?'

'Mmmh!'

'Try to stay relaxed while I push it in.' He couldn't take his own advice; he was trembling with eagerness and excitement, and inside Edmund was so soft and warm and tight that he had to stop and breathe deeply, telling himself it was still too soon to come.

'I love you,' he whispered.

'Hold still,' Edmund begged. 'Hold still till I get used to it. Hurts.'

'It's all right...' He rubbed Edmund's lower back, feeling his muscles twitch. 'It won't hurt for long, I promise.'

'Uhhh...' Edmund shuddered and wrapped his arms around his second pillow, steadying himself. 'Right. You can... you can do whatever... oh...'

Caspian kissed his shoulderblades and began to move his hips, very slowly, groaning low in his throat at the sweetness of it, at Edmund's heat and the way he quivered, the little hoarse grunts he uttered. He could only see half his face, his head turned against the pillow, his cheek flushed red and his brows screwed tight together and his mouth gasping wetly for air. He couldn't tell if it was a look of ecstasy or if Edmund was just grimly tolerating a grinding pain.

'Are - are you all right, my darling?'

'Yes...'

'I love you, Ed, I love you so much...' He let himself move a little faster, push a little deeper, starting to pant. 'Ah, my darling...' The pleasure grew and grew, and he bit his lip hard. 'Say you love me!'

'Of - of cuh - cour- ah! I luh- I - ah! Ah! C-Caspian!'

'I love you so...'

'Love you...'

'Sweet Ed...' There was no question of controlling himself now, and if he was hurting Edmund he would just have to make it up to him later. He thrust hard and fast, full of fierce, greedy joy, friction burning and building into a perfect climax. The last strokes were reflex, movements he couldn't stop himself making, and he slumped over Edmund's back, running with sweat. When he got a little breath back, he murmured 'Sorry.'

''s'all right.'

'That was... darling Ed, could you come?'

'I was getting close... but then you finished. It's all right.'

'You're _going_ to come, though.' He pulled out and rolled Edmund onto his back, shuffled back and dropped onto his elbows to lick his penis from root to tip, long wet soft strokes, until he shook with delight and sprayed his own belly. 'That's better, isn't it?'

'Mmm... thank you...' Edmund stretched, then curled up, watching him with dreamy eyes.

'May I borrow your dressing gown to go to the privy?'

'It's not called the privy. It's the loo. Yes.'

'Be back soon.' He pressed a lingering kiss into Edmund's mouth, and went.

Edmund pulled the covers up over himself, starting to feel a touch cold. He was tingly and trembly all over, weak and limp as a wet leaf. His bottom was burning, but he felt a certain satisfaction about the fact that he had been able to accept Caspian, and that he had been able to hold on through the pain until the pleasure began. That pleasure had been wonderful, if only there had been more of it - perhaps the next time it would start sooner? Would they have time for a next time? He didn't think he could cope with another try tonight, so would Caspian be able to stay another night? Was it all right to wish for that?

Caspian came back, freshly washed and smiling. He rolled into bed beside him and kissed him heartily. 'All right, sweetheart?' He had even brought some toilet paper to help Edmund clean up, which struck Edmund as very gentlemanly.

'All right. Bit sore.' He winced at the rough feeling of the paper on his reddened skin.

'I'll put a bit more cold cream on to soothe it. Sorry, my darling, I didn't mean to ride you quite that hard.' His hand was cool and kind now; he wiped his fingers on the last of the paper and stuffed it down into the wastepaper basket.

'Well. You ride me better than you ride a bike.'

 _'Edmund.'_ He rolled on top of him and held him down.

'It's a compliment!' Edmund protested, laughing.

'Well, you're nicer to ride than a bike. You have a softer saddle.'

Edmund made a sort of smothered snort. 'Thanks so much.'

'You're welcome.' He lay down beside him and gathered him into his arms, curling up to his back.

'So, now have we done everything we can do?'

'Well, there are all sorts of variations, but we've covered the basics.'

'Good. May as well be hanged for a sheep as for a lamb.' Edmund snuggled back against Caspian and held his hand against his own chest.

'I can feel your heart,' Caspian murmured. 'It's very strong.' He kissed Edmund's shoulder, laid down his head and drifted off to sleep.

 

* * *

 

They made love once more in the morning, before Lucy started calling things from the bottom of the stairs about certain people who slept in like great lazy lumps and shouldn't expect any breakfast.

'Forgive us, O Valiant Queen, Lioness of Lantern Waste!' Caspian yelled back. 'I'm just making sure King Edmund, Lawgiver, Peacebringer, Master of the Chessboard and Battlefield, makes his bed!'

'See that he washes his face, too!' Lucy called.

'Do you hear that?' Caspian whispered. 'You're to wash your face. No going down to breakfast with my spunk on your forehead.'

'It's on my _forehead?'_ Edmund wiped, stared, and licked his fingers. 'Yuk.'

'Yours doesn't taste any better, you know. I just swallow it because I love you.' He smiled and kissed Edmund's cheek. 'Time for a quick wash and brush-up, I think.'

 

* * *

 

That day, Edmund and Lucy took Caspian on a very partial and incomplete tour of London. They were slowed down by the fact that, while they had thought he would be interested to see historical landmarks, he kept stopping to stare at things like cars, lamp-posts ('just like our one!'), pillar-boxes and barrage balloons, and he got over-excited on the Tube and kept nudging Edmund, pointing at advertising posters and exclaiming, and generally making an exhibition of himself.

'He's just up from the country,' Lucy told the people staring at them, with a sweet smile. She and Edmund hurried Caspian out of the train at the next stop regardless, and took him to a Lyons Corner House to calm down with a cup of tea and a bun.

'I can't believe it's all one city!' he said. 'It's so vast!'

'Do you know, when you get excited your Telmarine accent starts coming back?' Lucy asked him.

'I've tried so hard to lose it and sound more Narnian,' Caspian said sheepishly.

'I noticed that last night,' Edmund said, and then blushed furiously and had to hide his confusion in his tea. Caspian made that worse by pressing his foot against his under the table and smiling very slightly. He didn't like tricking Lucy with private jokes; it felt mean, and what was more, it was risky. Lucy wasn't silly. Actually, she was so clever she was probably going to university; for his own part, he hoped to get into Sandhurst.

'Where next?' Caspian was asking.

'Well, would you like to see where the King lives?' Lucy asked. 'We won't actually see _him_ , but they fly the flag to show whether he's at home. Or there are all sorts of museums and galleries.'

'The Natural History Museum? Ed mentioned that.'

'Oh, yes, that's lovely! Let's do that. It's not far to South Ken.'

They spent the rest of the morning wandering around the museum, Edmund and Lucy explaining things that Caspian ought to know very very quietly.

'But if Darwin came up with evolution and turned out to be right, and Owen opposed him but turned out to be wrong, why is Owen's statue on the big staircase and Darwin's off to one side?' he whispered.

'Because Owen built the museum,' Edmund whispered back. 'Anyway, still not everyone thinks Darwin was right, because the Bible says all the animals and things were created in seven days by God. That's our name for the Emperor Over the Sea.'

'Oh. Our tales say Aslan sang the world into being, and I think it only took about a day. Though they never quite explain things like why there's an English-looking lamp-post in the middle of a forest that never goes out,' Caspian replied. His face fell. 'Of course, perhaps there _were_ tales that explained that, but we Telmarines suppressed them, and now we'll never know.'

'It was a mystery even in our day,' Lucy said. 'Cheer up.' She took Caspian's hand and gave it a friendly squeeze. He smiled back at her and Edmund wished he could walk hand in hand with Caspian without people thinking it was madly odd. It might have been all right if they were both about eight.

'But do you think that means our tales aren't literally true either?'

Lucy shrugged. 'They could be, though. Everything's more magical in your world. And just because people might make mistakes about what God did or how, it doesn't mean He's not real. Come on, let's go and look at dinosaurs.'

They had lunch in the museum's café, and then walked along to the Victoria and Albert. Lucy was still holding Caspian's hand, swinging their arms between them as they walked and chatting to him happily. It made Edmund feel mutely jealous and stupid for feeling jealous in the first place, and he fell into walking a pace behind them, his hands in his coat pockets. Caspian noticed that, and half-turned back, offering his free hand and smiling. Edmund considered, and decided that as long as he was holding hands with Lucy too it could look as if they were just being a bit childish. He took Caspian's hand and smiled back, feeling his cheeks flush a bit and hoping it wasn't too noticeable. They walked three abreast, and Lucy started humming one of Tumnus' flute songs.

Late in the afternoon, with heads overloaded with art and history, they took the Tube home. It was crowded, so that they couldn't sit, but that had its compensations. Nobody could see that Caspian and Edmund's hands were still linked, or that Caspian was stroking Edmund's palm with his thumb, or that Edmund leaned against him and felt himself borne up like a ship on the tide.

They got home in the dusk, and Lucy said as she unlocked the front door, 'Now, can you two get your own tea?'

'Aren't you stopping in?' Edmund asked, confused.

'No, silly. I'm going to Katie Glass's house to help make her sister's wedding dress, remember? I told you about it last week.' She knocked on his forehead. 'You can hold a map, but not remember a little thing like that.'

'Don't worry,' Caspian said. 'I'll take care of him and make sure he eats vegetables.'

'Then I'll count on you,' Lucy said, smiling. 'I'm just going to get changed and get my workbasket, and then I'll be off.' She scampered up the stairs, and Caspian hugged Edmund around the waist as soon as she was out of sight.

'We have all evening alone together!' he whispered.

'Shhh,' Edmund hissed back, although he could not stop smiling.

'We need to start tea.'

'I don't need tea! I can be nourished on love alone!'

'Well, I want at least beans on toast. I've been walking all day!' He wriggled out of Caspian's arms as Lucy's footsteps came back down the stairs.

'Off I go!' she called, and smacked a kiss onto each of their cheeks. 'Be good, darlings!'

'You've put on lipstick!' Edmund said, almost as if it were an accusation.

'Oh, blast, I've wasted it on you two. What if I have? It's only Tangee.' She went over to the hallstand mirror and pulled the lipstick tube from her coat pocket, quickly reapplying it. 'Must go!' She was out the door like a whirlwind.

'Now you're wearing lipstick,' Caspian said, and wiped Edmund's cheek with his thumb. 'I don't really see why any of you Pevensies would need it, though; pretty rosy lips seem to run in the family.'

'Caspian!'

'Yours are the prettiest, though, don't worry.' Caspian kissed him, and slipped his tongue deep into his mouth. They clung together in the hall, hearts pounding.

'I really do want some tea, though,' Edmund said.

'Well, of course. I'm hungry as a hunter; that love-nourishment nonsense was just poetic speaking.'

'Come on.' Edmund towed him by the hand to the kitchen, and sat him down in a chair. 'Why don't you tell me some of your poetry while I cook something?'

'My poetry is so awful, though,' Caspian said. 'The best that can be said of it is that it rhymes at least half the time. Are you going to wear Lucy's pinny-apron?'

' _No._ I'm going to tuck a tea-towel into my belt. That's what _men_ do.'

'And what are you going to cook for me, sweetheart?'

'Egg, chips and beans. You can peel potatoes, right? Then you peel and I'll... chip, while the fat gets hot. And I insist on hearing some of this poetry. What made you start?' Edmund lit the hob and put the pan of hard chip fat on to melt.

'A complete, well-rounded king is supposed to have artistic accomplishments,' Caspian said. 'According to the stories, Peter drew and painted and you were brilliant at chess and music.'

'I wish I still was,' Edmund said, getting out the potatoes. 'It's a really strange thing about our Golden Age selves. I can't remember everything from that time - not every day. It's more like remembering a long, involved dream. Some things come back if I do them again - like sword-fighting. But other things I just can't remember at all, and it's the same for the others. For example, music? I know that I learned music from Mr Tumnus, and I could play the pipes and the lute and the harp. I wrote songs of my own. I can't do any of those now. There's a harp in the music-room at school, and I had a go when nobody else was around, and it just didn't come back. And I have a feeling I was engaged to be married, to a duchess from Archenland, but I can't remember her face or her name!'

'Poor duchess!' Caspian made a competent start on the peeling.

'And Golden Age me hardly remembered being Edmund Pevensie. He didn't remember listening to the wireless, or playing cricket, or loving Turkish Delight.'

'What's Turkish Delight?'

'It's a sweet. I hate it now. Have you ever had that rose-jelly from Calormen? Very like that.'

'Horrible stuff,' Caspian said loyally. 'Tastes like soap. And the powdery stuff they coat it with, if I pick a piece up in my fingers it just makes me shudder, I can't explain why.'

'I know! It's beastly. And you're still not telling me any of your poetry.'

'All right. I'll give it a try. I hope I remember it right.' Caspian handed the first peeled potato to Edmund, frowned in thought, and began.

'My love is far away from me, away

'Beyond the eastern stars, beyond the dawn.

'I clasped him close to me, then had to say

'Fare well, most dear, and set sail home to mourn.'

'Dawn and mourn don't rhyme properly,' Edmund said, 'but I suppose it works as an assy-thingummy.'

'Do you want to hear this tender love poem, or do you want potato peel down your neck?'

'Love poem, please.'

'All right.

'For home, I thought, was barren of his form,

'His colours rich, his ear-delighting voice,

'His strength of limb, his breath so sweet and warm,

'But Aslan's will be done and not my choice.

'And yet in home I found him everywhere,

'On Ettinsmuir the peat-pools were his eyes,

'Raspberries were his lips, the night his hair,

'Slim birch-trees were his white arms and his thighs - (shut up, Edmund.)

'In Narnia lives my love, ever near,

'Till in Aslan's Country, his voice I hear.'

Edmund gave him a round of applause.

'It's not that good. The rhythm's awful at the end and I know how bad that part about your legs is, but I like your legs.'

'It's better than anything I could come up with. I mean, if I tried to write a poem about you, it would go like "There once was a king called Caspian X, good at sailing and fighting and also at sex".'

'There once was a king called Edmund the Just, recipient of King Caspian's lust.'

'Oh, good one!'

'He had creamy white skin and raspberry lips, and was awfully good at cutting up chips.'

'Caspian X had a wonderful smile, and you could look at his hair for a very long while.'

'King Edmund did not like Turkish Delight, but he liked to be kissed and buggered all night.'

'King Caspian was very proud of his cock, which was red as a rose and hard as a rock.'

'King Caspian asked of his sweetheart King Ed, after our tea shall we go straight to bed?'

'King Edmund agreed to an early bed-time, as long as he didn't have to think of a rhyme.'

'I think we're both brilliant poets,' Caspian said, and leaned across the table to kiss him.

After a very satisfactory tea they made a slap-dash attempt at washing the dishes, which ended in towel-flicking, water-splashing and wrestling on the floor.

'You _beast_ , you've got my shirt all wet. I was hoping to make that last another day.'

'Take it off, then,' Caspian said, and started popping buttons and kissing each newly exposed bit of skin until he met underwear. 'Vests are incredibly ugly.' He undid the rest of the buttons and pushed Edmund's vest up over his chest, scattering open-mouthed kisses over his skin, sucking lightly and stroking with his tongue.

'Well, they keep us warm. Oh...' Each kiss left a ticklish warm wet circle that shivered in the night air.

'I'll keep you warm.'

'On a wet lino floor? Let me up.' He wrapped his arms around Caspian's neck. 'Let's go up to bed. That'll be warm and soft and nice.'

'Ohhh... but I don't want to get up off you. I don't want to let go even a little bit.' He rocked back onto his heels and pushed his hands through his hair, then got to his feet and gave Edmund a hand up. He wrapped his arms around him tight, and kissed him deeply and sweetly. 'Thought of any more rhymes?'

'Only rubbish like "I love you very very much, you're the one I want to touch".'

'I think I must actually be a very good lover.'

'Oh, really? And why do you have such a high opinion of yourself?'

'Because yesterday you were so, so nervous and ashamed and uncomfortable, and now you're so keen and sweet and eager. And you're rubbing yourself on my leg.'

'It feels nice. But it seems mad to say I've got a lover. People my age don't have _lovers_.'

'Then what do you call the man who makes love to you?'

'Caspian, mainly.'

'That's a very good answer. Why does your bedroom have to be all the way upstairs?'

'Race you up there.'

Caspian's legs were longer, but Edmund knew the turf and had a fractional head start. Caspian grabbed his shirt-tail on the landing but he just ran out of his shirt and left him holding it, and staggering back from the pull. He clattered up the second flight and down the corridor and dived into his room with a whoop, leaping onto Peter's vacant bed, bouncing off it like a trampoline and landing on his own with a crash. Less than a second later, Caspian pounced on him and they struggled until they were both helpless with laughter.

'Oh... oh Edmund, how am I supposed to love you if I can't breathe?'

'Catch your breath and I'll get your clothes off.' Edmund rolled to the end of the bed and started pulling off Caspian's shoes and socks. Caspian sighed and fell back, panting gently, smiling up at him when he returned to the head of the bed and pulled off his jersey and unbuttoned his shirt. He smiled back, although he didn't feel too certain of what he was doing. Caspian sat up, shrugging out of his layers, and pulled Edmund back down with him, enjoying the warm press of bare skin, chest to chest.

He ran his fingertips up and down Edmund's back, tracing the wings of his shoulderblades, the ridge of his spine, gazing up into his eyes, serious now as he kissed Caspian's cheek, his jawline, the side of his neck, working his way down onto his chest with dry-lipped, hesitant kisses. Caspian had always taken the lead so far, so it was thrilling to see Edmund try. He was looking up at him, those great dark eyes under their inky brows, and he could see such wonderful love and need there. The only light in the room was moonlight from the open window, and his bare skin looked blue-white, his lips looked violet, and Caspian shivered purely because Edmund _looked_ cold.

'Close the curtains so we can have some light,' he suggested.

'Oh - right. Anyway, I don't think I want the Luftwaffe to look in and see my bare bum,' Edmund said with a half-smile. He rolled off the bed and went to the window. Caspian lay and watched him, moonlit before he drew the blackouts together, a silver-edged man-boy with the beginnings of broad shoulders and a proud peak in the front of his trousers.

'They would be lucky,' he said loyally. 'You are beautiful.' He reached over and turned on the lamp - which was another little marvel of Edmund's world, clicking on just like the torch, no need for a flame.

'Pfft.' Edmund undid his belt and pushed down his trousers and pants, scuffing out of his shoes and socks and crawling back onto the bed.

'Especially now.'

'I said pfft.' He kissed Caspian's stomach, descending again, making a line down to his waist and starting on his fly buttons, Caspian stroking his hair. 'Am I doing this properly?'

'Mmhm.' He lifted his hips to let Edmund pull his trousers down, his legs to take them off.

'Caspian. No pants?'

'They're uncomfortable.'

'I thought you liked the elastic.'

'To play with, not to wear all day.' He ran his fingertips along Edmund's jaw to the tip of his chin, stroked his lower lip with his thumb. 'Do you know how you could make me very happy?'

'I'll try, but I don't really know what I'm doing.'

'As long as you don't actually bite me, it's hard to get wrong. Just kiss it to begin with. Start at the bottom and work your way up.' He sighed deeply as Edmund began, his dry, soft lips tickling. Reaching the head, he hesitated a moment, breathing heavily, then parted his lips and gently sucked the tip. 'Oh... oh, Ed.'

'Mm?'

'It's lovely. Pull it in a little deeper. Mm!' He parted his legs, letting Edmund nestle in between them. 'Oh, you lovely boy... deeper.' He was breathing rapidly, his fingers moving blindly over Edmund's hair, his cheeks, his jaw, feeling the tension in him, the quick flickering energy. 'Wait a moment - hold still.'

He got up, turned over, lay with his head between Edmund's legs and guided his head back between his own. 'Now you do me while I do you.' He filled his mouth and his hands with Edmund's warmth, squeezing and rubbing his buttocks and thighs as he sucked his stiff penis, feeling him whimper and moan and gulp around his own erection. He loved how Edmund trembled and squirmed, how raw and pure and immediate his reactions were. He supposed he wouldn't stay like that for long, but then, they wouldn't have long. Edmund's moans were growing deeper, his buttocks were clenching convulsively, and he had lost any timidity about handling Caspian's penis, mirroring the eagerness of his mouth and hands. He came with a great shudder and a hoarse grunt, going limp.

'Finish me?' Caspian gasped. 'Oh, please, finish me.'

'Mm...' Soft slack mouth tightening on him again, giving just the little bit more that he needed. He lay in a blissful daze, head pillowed on Edmund's thigh, panting.

'My mouth feels strange,' Edmund mumbled. 'Different.'

'I suppose it is different.'

'You mean it's not a virgin any more?'

'Ha. I suppose not.' He kissed Edmund's thigh, stroked the kiss into his skin and sat up, leaning on one arm, stroking from his hip up over his ribs to his chest. 'You're getting goosebumps. Come on.' They pulled down the covers and curled up, pulling the quilt up round their shoulders and huddling together until the warmth spread through the sheets.

'I can still feel the shape of you in my mouth,' Edmund tried to explain. 'Like how when I woke up this morning, I could still feel you in my bum. I went on feeling it from time to time most of the day, specially when I sat down.'

'I'm sorry, sweetheart.'

'No, it didn't hurt. I just felt the _shape_ of you, like... like being buggered by a ghost,' he said, and started to laugh.

'Maybe you were! If I ever catch that ghost I'll tie it in a knot.'

'Well, I just thought you'd like to hear what an impression your cock made on me. Since you're so proud of it.'

'You've seemed to be getting quite fond of it too. You didn't feel as if you were only sucking it to please me - there was some enthusiasm in it.'

'It was exciting,' Edmund admitted. 'I mean... it felt... not wrong or bad, I didn't feel guilty or ashamed... but it felt sort of... aargh, I don't want to say "naughty," that's a little kid word and I didn't feel like a kid. But I felt daring and... oh _I_ don't know. Like I was going out of bounds.'

'When I suck yours I feel as if I'm worshipping you. Worshipping _it_.'

'You're really strange about cocks, Caspian.'

'Well, I like them! They're beautiful, they're fun, they're full of life - those are all good things to worship, aren't they?'

'You know, that's in the marriage service here.'

'Cocks? That's a bit surprising.'

'No, it goes "with this ring, I thee wed, with my body, I thee worship." I remember because when we were little Su used to make us all play Weddings. She'd wear a lace tablecloth on her head and be the bride, and Peter had to give her away and Lucy had to be the bridesmaid and I had to be the minister, so I had to learn the words.'

'Who did she play at marrying?'

'Usually the rocking-horse.' He grinned at Caspian's laughter. 'It didn't matter much, it was just a stand-in. The important thing was, she was Susan the Bride.'

'Well, I know we can't be married, but with my body I thee worship.'

'Me too.'

'Do you now?'

'Yes, all right, I do.' Edmund took a breath and spoke very fast. 'Before when we were like that it felt like - like everything just went round and round through me and through you and it was like electricity through a circuit and the electricity was how much I love you and want you.'

'Dear Ed.' Caspian kissed him, wrapping him up in his arms. 'Oh, I want to hold onto you forever.'

'And never break the circuit.'

'Not really sure what that is.'

'Well, a circuit makes my torch light up. If you broke that, it wouldn't work any more.'

'Then let's never, never break it.'

'Except that we have to.' Edmund sighed. 'There's got to be contact.'

'Don't let's think about it.'

'I know. I'm so glad you're here.' He stroked Caspian's cheek, brushing back his hair.

'But... would you like me to give you a ring?'

'I couldn't wear it. Boys don't really wear rings.'

'Do you get to have _any_ fun?'

'There's just... there's a lot of rules to follow if you want people to think you're normal, not odd or unsound. I mean, there are rules you've got to follow to be thought a man in Narnia.'

'Yes, but those are about being honest and brave and dealing fairly, not about whether you wear a bit of jewellery.'

'We care about being honest and brave and fair too, you know.'

'Another keepsake, then. Like how I kept your torch.'

'I don't know. I'll think about it.'

'Can I still keep the torch, though?'

'Yes... I've got a new one now, anyway.'

'Good. I keep it under my pillow, you know.'

'Doesn't it keep you awake?'

'It's a very thick pillow and I push the torch to the back by the headboard.'

'How big's your bed?'

'I could lie sideways across it as easily as from top to bottom.'

'Sorry mine's only a single.'

'But I like being bundled together close to you. Even if we were in my big bed, I'd lie like this, with my arms round you and our legs tangled up, and we'd be wasting most of that space.'

'We could lie diagonally across it. No waste then.'

'You have such good ideas, Edmund. No wonder yours was a golden age.'

'Yours will be too.'

'Ah, it'd be easy to imagine a second golden age with you there.'

'We need to stop thinking about things like that, honestly.'

'I know... it's just so hard not to. I look into your eyes and I feel as if I see my future.'

'Please, stop it. Let's just - would you like to ride me again? You can. I'd like you to now. Come on.' He kissed Caspian with great determination and reached down to rub him. 'We can worship each other a bit more.'

'The very best ideas...' He moved his hips, surging into Edmund's hand, feeling his tongue flutter and swirl. 'Are you sure, though?'

'You said the second time felt better and hurt less, didn't you?'

'I hope it's like that for you too. You don't need to roll over, we can do it facing each other too.'

'How? It's behind me, in case you hadn't noticed.'

'Just - here, let me move your legs. Bring them up like this, lift up your bottom, and hold behind your knees. That's just right.'

'I'm going to be jolly uncomfortable like this,' Edmund protested, reddening.

'But I'll be able to kiss you at the same time, and won't you like that?'

'Well. Yes.'

'I certainly will.' He leaned in, placing his arms either side of Edmund's head on the pillow, and kissed him, lingering over it, shuffling in on his knees so that his thighs helped support Edmund's weight.

'All right... it's better with you there.'

'Feel like you're going out of bounds?' He ran his hands over the undersides of Edmund's thighs, down to his buttocks and back up.

'A bit...'

'Try to relax... imagine lovely warm feelings spreading all through your body.'

'They're not imaginary. Well. Except my feet are cold up in the air.'

'Want me to put your socks back on?'

'No, I'd feel silly wearing socks and nothing else. Kiss me some more and I'll forget about it.'

'All right.' He kept his hands moving, stroking and gently squeezing, returning from time to time to the inner slopes, feeling Edmund grow warmer, more relaxed, gradually more excited. 'Like me touching you there?'

'Mm...'

'I love when you close your eyes to feel it better... and bite your lip.'

'Go easy...' Edmund caught his breath.

'Sore?'

'Bit. The Pond's is under the pillow.'

'Ah.' He found it, fumbled off the lid, stroked a little down the cleft. 'Better?'

'Mmmm...' Edmund tipped his head back as Caspian's fingertips entered him.

'All right?'

'Better than last time.'

'Because it knows to expect something good in the end, I think.'

'In the end. Ha.'

'I wasn't even trying, but that was quite good!'

'Ohhh...'

'Do you want me to...'

'Not yet. Little bit more please.'

'Ah, so you like this? Just like this?'

_'Yes.'_

'My darling... you are _so_ beautiful.'

'No I... oh...'

'You're shaking.'

'You can now. Oh...' He shivered as Caspian drew his fingers out. Caspian kissed him as he pressed his penis into the cleft, slid up and down, stroking with the shaft. 'Why aren't you...'

'Doesn't this feel nice?'

'Mmm...'

'Last night I was too excited, and I rushed.' He rocked his hips slowly. 'I can do a lot better than that.'

'Ohhhh...' He lifted his hips, pushing up against Caspian. 'But I... I want you to...'

'Aah...' He sank in, rolling forward, leaning into another deep kiss, feeling Edmund tense and relax and shudder blissfully. 'You're so warm... and _soft_.' He slid his hand between them, wrapping and stroking his straining erection, keeping in time with his hips, a slow, steady rhythm.

'You're so big and _hard.'_ He bit his lip, inadvertently bit Caspian's too. 'Aaaah... ah...'

'Love you.' He pressed his forehead to Edmund's, drew back a little, drove in, found that he couldn't look away from his eyes, not even to kiss him.

'Love you...' Edmund's voice shook, but he gazed back steadily till his eyes flickered to Caspian's lips, and he lifted his head, trying to reach them with his own. Caspian drew back, dipped in, back again, forcing him to crane his neck to get the kiss he wanted. 'Don't be mean...'

'I'm not mean... look how good I'm making you feel...'

'But kiss me... kiss me...' Edmund took one hand from his leg to grab Caspian's head, lacing his fingers into his long hair, holding him close and kissing him urgently, hitching his hips hard against him.

'Tell me when you want me to go faster...'

'Now.'

'Really?'

'Yes! Oh...' His grip tightened and he arched up sharply. There were no more words between them, only gasps and grunts and bitten-off cries, the rattle and thump of the bed and the clap of thigh on thigh, fierce sweet pleasure building and swelling and rising to a shattering peak. They lay, panting, bathed in sweat, giddy and euphoric.

'You're squashing me,' Edmund murmured. He gave Caspian a friendly nudge, chin on his shoulder.

'Mmm... nice sort of squash, though, I think.'

'You're not the squashed one.'

'Ah, all right. I need the loo, anyway. Did I say that right? The loo?'

'I do too. But you can go first, 'cos I don't think I can use my legs yet.'

 

* * *

 

They were sleeping soundly, wound up in each other's arms and legs, when the air-raid siren began to howl. Edmund woke with a groan and an imprecation against Hitler, while Caspian sprang up in bewilderment.

'What is that?' he asked.

'Air raid,' Edmund mumbled, sitting up. 'Get some clothes on. We've got to get down to the Anderson.'

In the distance, there was an explosion, and Caspian startled again. 'What was that?'

'A bomb going off.'

'It sounded huge. Are we safe?'

'We'll be safe when we get down to the Anderson, so get your trousers on!'

They clattered down the stairs, Edmund carrying the new torch from his bedside drawer, out the back door and across the back garden, down into the earth-covered corrugated-iron shelter. Caspian banged his forehead on the low doorway and cursed.

'Let me see,' Ed said, pushing his hair back and shining the torch on his face. 'You're all right. It's just a bump.' He made sure the door was shut, set down the torch on the little table and set to work getting the Tilly lamp started. More explosions crossed the night, marching nearer. Caspian sat down on one of the benches and listened to them, his face paling so that the red mark on his forehead stood out vividly.

The Tilly hissed into steady bright light, and Edmund clicked off the torch and looked around. 'Where's Lu?' he said. He looked at his watch, which he had never got around to taking off. 'It's past two in the morning. She should have come home.'

'Should we go and look for her?' Caspian asked.

Edmund shook his head. 'We have to stay put until we hear the all clear. Perhaps she's still at Katie's. She could have decided to stop for the night if they didn't finish their sewing until late. But then she would have rung. I'm sure the Glasses are on the 'phone.' 

'It's possible she tried and we didn't hear the bell,' Caspian said with a rueful smile. The closest explosion yet sent a little shockwave through the shelter, and the smile dropped off his face. 'Are you sure we're safe in here?'

'Unless a bomb drops right on us, yes. It's a good shelter. Peter and I piled the earth on top with our dad, when he was home on leave. Years ago now. It was phoney war then. Phoney fake, not phoney telephone,' he added, seeing Caspian look puzzled. 'Before the Blitz.'

'Well, I trust your earthworks,' Caspian said with a tight smile.

'But you'd feel safer under Aslan's How,' Edmund said, smiling back. 'You know the Battle of Beruna? The first one, Peter's one? How he had all the flying creatures drop great rocks on the enemy ranks? He got the idea from this.' He nodded upward. 'Of course, we used it again at the second one. Your one.'

'Great rocks don't explode, though,' Caspian pointed out. 'And you didn't drop them over a city where people were living - and trying to sleep.'

'Well, we aren't Nazi swine,' Edmund said, shrugging. 'We've got a little Primus in here. Do you want a cup of tea? Or cocoa?'

'It feels strange. Very helpless. That this isn't something we can fight against, you and I.'

'I know... running out there with swords wouldn't do much good. I'm getting the kettle on, anyway.' He got the Primus out of its box under the bench and set it up, pouring water into the old camping kettle from the bottle they topped up from the kitchen tap after raids were over.

'How can anyone fight against this?' Caspian asked.

'With planes of our own. Bombs of our own. And yes. We've bombed their cities. We've had to.'

'What are they fighting for? To rule your country?' 

'To rule all countries. And be able to kill off all the sorts of people they don't like. You remember Darwin, at the museum? Natural selection? Well, they think that means that different races of people are like... different breeds or species competing... and the strongest have the right to wipe out the weakest. They think the strongest are white European people, and the weakest and lowest are Jews, gypsies, negroes... they want to get rid of cripples, too, and simple-minded people, and of course people who are too clever and difficult and ask the wrong questions.'

'Like us,' Caspian said, looking ill. 'The Telmarines. Trying to wipe out the Old Narnians.'

'Maybe a bit,' Edmund admitted. 'But with much, much more destructive power than the Telmarines had. I hope there'll never be guns or bombs in Narnia. You don't even have cannon, thank goodness.'

'I wish I could bring you home with me. You and Lucy. And keep you safe.'

'We've got to stop thinking like that,' Edmund said, shaking his head. He spooned cocoa and sugar and milk powder into two mugs and poured the hot water on, stirring hard to break up the lumps.

'I know... but I hate seeing the world you've got to live in. I always imagined it as more wonderful. It is full of wonders, I suppose.'

'Here.' Edmund sat down next to him and gave him a mug of cocoa. 'Here's another wonder. It's called Cadbury Bournville. Drink up.'

After the all clear sounded, they returned to the house and Edmund went to the 'phone, reasoning that while it was rude to call late at night except for an emergency, the Glasses would be awake too, and people seldom minded one making sure someone was all right after an air raid. The line was down, though.

'We could go and look for her now,' Caspian suggested as he hung up the receiver.

'We'd just get in the way of people who need to be out cleaning up and putting out fires,' Edmund said. 'Better to check up in the morning.' He caught Caspian's disappointed look. 'Caspian. I'm not a king here. I'm not even a man. A policeman or a fireman will just tell me to go home and stop being a nuisance. We've got no reason to think anything has happened to Lucy, and if something has, us running around in the dark won't help her.'

The only sensible thing to do was to go back to bed. They lay spoon-fashion, their hands and feet cold, waiting for sleep.

 

* * *

 

The 'phone was back on in the morning. Edmund tried the Glasses' number again and felt his body go light with relief when Mrs Glass said that yes, Lucy had stopped with them because the girls were up until all hours giggling together, even before the raid, and now they were sleeping in to make up for it.

'That's sensible of them,' he said.

'Yes, I wish I could do likewise,' Mrs Glass said. 'Goodbye now, Edmund.'

'Goodbye.' He hung up.

'You were right,' Caspian said, giving him a half-bow.

'Thank goodness for that.' 

There was an awkwardness between them this morning. Edmund knew that he had looked weak to Caspian, and hated it. He had still been right, but he shouldn't have been; the world was wrong. And Lucy was a brave and sensible person who, if she had been in any sort of difficulty last night, would almost certainly have found her way out of it, but still, but still. He made them breakfast, realising that they were going through the rations for the week too quickly - after all, the book was only for two people, and they couldn't exactly get Caspian added on. He felt shamed by that. It should help to remember that when he and the others had arrived at Aslan's How, Caspian's side had had nothing much to offer them but hard cheese and onions (oh, the smell in the How), but it didn't.

They cleaned up the mess they'd left in the kitchen the night before, so Lucy didn't have to come home to it.

'Don't look so gloomy, Ed,' Caspian said, patting his shoulder.

'I'm not gloomy, I'm just tired. Bit of a rough night.'

'It wasn't all bad, though, was it?' A coaxing smile.

'No. Until the siren it was pretty wonderful.' He leaned against Caspian, felt comforted by how warm and solid he was.

'Are you still feeling that ghost cock inside you?' Caspian whispered in his ear, making him snort with startled laughter. 'Ah, that's better. I love to see you smile.'

'All right, all right.'

'What shall we do today?'

'I don't know... don't know when Lucy will be back, so...'

'Ah, so we should do something wholesome that you won't be embarrassed for her to see. Why don't you give me another lesson on the bike?'

After several more wobbles up and down the garden path, Caspian said he thought he could learn to balance better if he could ride for longer in one direction without having to stop or turn round, so they went out to the street, which was pretty quiet. Edmund got Peter's bike from the shed and they rode up and down until he was steady.

'How do I go faster?'

'Just pedal harder. You can stand up on the pedals if you've got to get up a hill, although that makes balancing a bit trickier. Want to ride over to the park?'

In Victoria Park, Caspian's balance improved to the extent that it no longer seemed unsporting for Edmund to race him. They tore up and down the paths until they were tired, then lay on the grass by the bikes pointing out shapes in the clouds, until a cross old man came over and shouted at them to stop making the place look untidy and get haircuts.

At home, Lucy was back and eating a sandwich at the kitchen table - cheese and onion. 

'Oh, Lu, your breath!' Caspian said when he bent to kiss her on the cheek.

'Make yourself one and we'll all have onion breath together,' she said unrepentantly. 'Hallo, Ed. You need to brush your hair, it looks a sight.'

'I like Edmund's messy hair,' Caspian said. 'It makes interesting shapes on his forehead.'

'There. My hair's perfectly all right,' Edmund said, cutting four slices of bread.

'I think we should keep on with Caspian's education this afternoon,' said Lucy, happily munching. 'What about the National Gallery?'

'We don't have to have educational outings every day,' Edmund said.

'But I'd like to see it,' Caspian said. 

'There, I win,' Lucy said, and patted Caspian's knee.

She held Caspian's arm as they walked around the gallery, and Edmund moped in amongst the jewels of Western art, not because he thought Lucy was trying to take Caspian over, just because he couldn't hang onto him in public as she could.

In the last of the afternoon light, they went out into Trafalgar Square and looked up at Nelson's Column. 

'He's a sea-faring hero like you,' Lucy said, bumping Caspian's shoulder affectionately.

'I'm glad I don't have that many pigeons on me,' Caspian said.

Edmund was about to suggest that they buy a bag of breadcrumbs and feed the pigeons when the lion on the pedestal nearest them silently got up and leapt down. London went still around them. Even Lucy went still, which was strangest of all. The air seemed to grow warmer.

'Caspian of Narnia,' said the lion, 'you must go home.'

'Aslan?' Caspian said uncertainly, because the lion still appeared to be made of bronze. Its great dark paws grated on the paving stones.

'Only a shadow of him, in this place,' the lion replied. 'Come.'

'Please,' Caspian said urgently. 'I will come home, I will, I'll do my duty. But please tell me, is there any way Edmund and I can see each other again? We love each other.' He grabbed Edmund's hand; Edmund looked around in alarm, but the people around them seemed to be frozen in place, like colour photographs.

'Have you stopped time?' he asked.

'Time goes on. We are slightly outside it,' the lion said. 'Does Caspian speak for you, too?'

'He does,' Edmund said, nodding, knowing that there was no sense in trying to hide anything even from Aslan's shadow. 'I'm in love with him.'

The lion's great head dropped a little. Its bronze face did not really move, and Edmund could not guess at what it might be thinking. He was surprised to find that he didn't feel afraid - not afraid that Aslan would be angry, anyway.

'Edmund, Caspian is needed in Narnia, and you are needed here. You cannot yet know why, but this is your place. I cannot offer you a life together now.'

'I know. I'm sorry.'

'Do not be sorry that you love.' The lion lifted its head and looked to Caspian. 'I can offer you another life, after this one is done. A life in this world.'

'But... if I were someone else, someone new, how would we know each other?' Caspian asked.

'And what if Caspian lived to be seventy and died and got born as a baby over here? We'd be the wrong ages,' Edmund said. 'Or I died first and when he was born here I was gone?'

'Edmund,' the lion said, and there was a trace of Aslan's affection in its metallic voice. 'I think you know from your reading that time is only a mode of thought.'

'The Psammead?' Edmund asked, confused.

'The sammy-add?' Caspian repeated, still more confused.

'You will know each other,' the lion said. 'And you will be the right ages. I give you my promise. Now, though, you must say goodbye.'

They both knew that there was no arguing, no warding it off. Edmund felt tears stinging in the corners of his eyes and high in his nose, his throat aching. The sun was far too bright for the end of the day. He looked at Caspian and saw the same thing in his face, the loneliness already. Caspian framed Edmund's face with his hands, pressed their foreheads together.

'I love you,' he said, 'and I'm going to find you.'

'I'll be looking for you. I love you,' Edmund whispered back. He put his arms around Caspian's shoulders and kissed him, feeling tears burn down his face and run into the corners of his mouth. His heart beat slowly and painfully. He took a step back.

Caspian looked dismayed. 'Ed, I don't have the torch. I left it at your house.'

Edmund blinked, thought, unfastened his watch and strapped it onto Caspian's wrist. 'Take this. It'll be better. The torch needs batteries but this will keep going as long as you wind it every night.'

'I don't have anything to give you. Everything I have on is Peter's.' Caspian was blinking quickly, trying not to cry.

'Your things are still at my house, remember?' He managed to smile, just.

'Oh, Ed... hug Lucy for me, won't you?' Caspian stepped back, dropped his hands to his sides.

'Of course I will.'

Caspian took a breath, tried to say something, said instead 'Goodbye, my darling Ed.'

'Goodbye, Caspian.'

The sun grew brighter and sharper, and Edmund closed his eyes; he felt a warm breath on his face, and when he opened his eyes Caspian was gone, the lion was back on its pedestal, and Lucy was turning towards him in confusion.

'Where did Caspian...'

'Aslan took him back.'

He couldn't talk to Lucy on the way home. She held his hand and stuck close to him, and stopped him walking into people and dogs and pillar-boxes. When they got home he went straight up to his room. He had left Caspian's Narnian nightclothes, his soft lawn nightshirt and embroidered velvet gown, rolled up at the bottom of the wardrobe. He needed to wrap them around his arms and press his face into them, breathe in Caspian's smell.

They were gone. He spent a few moments turning over shoes and tennis racquets and things in disbelief, his breathing growing increasingly loud and panicky. And the shoes, Father's shoes, that he had lent to Caspian, were back. And the trousers were hanging up. But they had scraps of just-wilted grass caught in the turn-ups, grass from Victoria Park.

At the back of the wardrobe, in a crack between the floor and the back, he found a gold ring that Caspian had worn, had taken off because Edmund told him it would look odd. A gold band with a dark blue oval stone, and cut into the flat face of the stone, 'CXR.' He pressed it to his lips for a long moment, then slipped it onto the finger he thought it would best fit, his right forefinger, where he had worn his own seal ring as a Narnian king. A magic ring might make its wearer invisible; this one became invisible on his hand. He could feel it there, and see it again when he slipped it off.

He went to the bathroom and washed his face, blotted it on a towel and went along to Lucy's room. She was sitting on her bed, her knees drawn up under her chin, looking at the painting of the Dawn Treader. Eustace had managed to wheedle his mother into letting Lucy have it; it hadn't taken much wheedling because Alberta had never liked its style. Lucy kept it on the east wall of her bedroom, with a little bowl on the bureau below it that she filled with little treasures she found, acorns, shells, sea-glass.

Edmund sat down beside her and put his arm round her shoulders. 'I'm sorry I couldn't talk to you before,' he said. 'You were a brick, though.'

'It's all right. I did know, but I thought I should let you choose when to tell me,' she said, surprising him.

'I meant on the way home today,' he said. 'Do you mean you knew Caspian and I...'

'Well, yes. You were falling in love on the Dawn Treader.'

'That's a bit embarrassing, I mean, I didn't know it showed that much.'

'It wouldn't have shown to everyone. Just me,' Lucy said. 'What happened? Was Aslan angry?'

'Not angry. Just sad, I think. That he couldn't let us stay together. I suppose there's some great plan that even he can't change.'

'I'm glad. I didn't think he'd be angry. It wouldn't be fair.' Lucy gave him a wan little smile. 

'And you're not angry either? Or disappointed or... disgusted?'

'Edmund,' she said, her smile broadening, 'in the Golden Age, I was in love with a faun. I don't care who anyone falls in love with as long as they really, really love them.'

'A faun? You mean Tumnus? I - I don't remember that.' He was blindsided.

'Nor did I at first. I don't think I could really remember it as a little girl. The feeling of being in love... it's in your body as well as your mind. The memory came back as I grew up again, just lately. I wonder what else we don't remember?'

'Did you... I mean... did he love you too?'

'Yes... everything changed when I grew up. He was so worried about it at first, in case I thought there'd been something nasty about how fond of me he always was. There was nothing nasty about him, though, ever. I knew that. He asked me to marry him the day before we disappeared... we came back. I asked to think about it. I'd made up my mind to say yes, and to tell the rest of you together, that night when we got back from our hunt. I was so happy, Ed.'

'Oh, Lu.' He leaned his head against hers.

'But it's all right. You and Caspian will find each other again, and so will we. I have dreams, you know, where we're walking together in a garden, arm in arm, and he's mine, and I'm his. And he looks down at me and smiles, and he says "This is not a memory. This is yet to be." I know it's true. And I know it's here.'

'How?'

'Well, for one thing, he's got feet not hooves.' She laughed softly.

'That does seem like a good sign.'

 

* * *

[Extract from the 1995 memoirs of Sir Edmund Pevensie, The Other Sir Edmund.]

Following my National Service, I was told that I was an excellent candidate for officer training. I could hardly have been happier or more proud. Sandhurst now preferred university graduates, so I was encouraged to pursue a degree that would be relevant, and accordingly went to Cambridge to read history, with a particular focus on military history.

I was conducted to my study by an ancient and cantankerous college porter, who held forth at some length on the faults he found with the man with whom I would be sharing the study - that he was a foreigner, that he had silly hair, that he looked far too pleased with himself.

The porter opened the door, gave me my key, I walked in and there, reading the Odyssey by the window, with a National Service haircut a little older than mine growing out over his collar, was Caspar Koenig, and I fell in love with him, and he with me.

I say that I fell in love with him, and he with me. The love between us was romantic, sexual, friendly, brotherly, many-layered. I say this clearly and emphatically because I do not wish it to be in any way misunderstood. I have been praised many times for my achievements as a warrior and as a peacemaker, for Korea, for Vietnam, for Afghanistan. If anyone wishes to withdraw their praise because these were the achievements of a practising homosexual, let them, for I neither need nor seek their approval any more. I fell in love with him, and he with me.

Caspar was of mixed Polish and German parentage, and though Jewish by birth, had not been raised in any religion until he came to Britain as a refugee, smuggled out by his terrified parents just before war broke out in earnest. He had lived with a vicar and his family and, as well as becoming a naturalised citizen, he had been confirmed in the Church of England. He had come to Cambridge to read Classics, with no very clear idea of what he would do next, only that he wanted to find some way to serve his adopted nation.

I did not feel as if I was meeting him; I felt as if I was recognising him, as if our hearts already knew each other quite intimately. In a way of which I do not expect to be able to convince you, I believe that this was true.

[The curious thing about this description is that, from private journals and papers inherited by Sir Edmund's niece Sylvia Ness, it is quite clear that he was not meeting Caspar Koenig for the first time at Cambridge in 1950. In both a letter to his sister and confidant, Dr Lucy Ness, and a contemporary diary, he writes 'C is here!!!' with an emphatic underlining and with a small three-pointed crown drawn over the C. No explanation has ever been forthcoming for when and how they had previously met, but one assumes it was during the war, perhaps as evacuees, since there is no record of their having served together in their National Service.

The diary's description of the Cambridge meeting is both more disorganised and in some respects more detailed. 'Lu and Tom' are Lucy and her husband the composer Tom Ness, Peter their elder brother, later Baron Pevensie, Su their sister, the designer Susanne P, Eustace the entomologist and environmentalist Dr E.C. Scrubb, a cousin. The 'HER' mentioned has never been identified, although it may be significant that it is followed by a small star.]

C is here!!! C!!! He knows me! As soon as the door was shut safe we were on each other and kissed and fucked on the floor quite shamelessly. I'm taller than him now. He's still C (C again?). Same face same eyes same hair same hands same cock I love him love him love him so. Showed him the ring. He has the watch. He bought it in a pawn-shop. Showed him where it had a little 'EP' that I scratched on the back of the case with my compasses. Both cried gave thanks etc.

He can't remember much. Maybe that's best. He remembers all about ME and US but not about life with HER. Told him about Lu and Tom, Peter in RAF, Su in USA, Eustace's ants. Want to remember I am writing this in bed, he's sleeping beside me, he's smiling in his sleep, I love him. Bum hurts like billy-oh, must get Vaseline. GOOD NIGHT.

**Author's Note:**

> Oh, and then lamamama asked me what I thought happened after Cambridge, and I couldn't be bothered to turn it into a real story, BUT:
> 
> Edmund really, really wants to go into the Army and be an officer, and I’m down with that, I feel it’s a logical direction for the character to go in. I’m not sure Caspian would want to do that if it weren’t what Ed is going to do - I think he might follow him in that direction so that they can be together, because if he follows some other career seeing each other is going to be awfully difficult, and he’s going to worry about him going off to dangerous places without him, and of course feel that he’s not doing his part or serving his country or generally being enough of a man by comparison.
> 
> And he can do it well - it’s just that sometimes he gets a bit fed up and wishes he was a boatbuilder or something. While they’re at university they take turns going to each other’s people for the holidays, and they always spend summers where Caspian grew up with his foster family in the Lake District. His foster mother decided to help him assimilate to English culture by giving him the Swallows and Amazons books, and his foster father the vicar taught him to sail in a dinghy just like the boats in that series. So they sail around Windermere and Coniston Water and camp on little islands and sleep under the stars and are very, very happy in those early days.
> 
> Edmund has to retire from active service after some serious wounds sustained in Vietnam, and once physically recovered, works in the diplomatic service. Although Caspian was horribly worried about him when he was badly hurt, he actually finds this quite a relief, as it gives him the opportunity to change directions too. He returns to England, spends a lot of time on the water, opens a sailing school and works with the Sea Scouts. Sometimes he travels with Edmund, but much of the time he just lives in a flat that they share (on the fiction that it’s convenient for Edmund to come back to a place that is kept up for him, and there’s someone to look after his dogs when he has to go overseas).
> 
> They’re out to most of their families and some close friends, but generally keep their real relationship quiet and avoid situations that could expose them (Susan likes to say that because she works in fashion and has done a lot of costume design for theatre and film, she knows more gay people than they do). This is a source of tension for a long time, as it goes against the grain for both of them to be dishonest about anything, particularly something close to their hearts, but because of their military service and Edmund’s subsequent diplomatic career and the fact that Caspian works with kids, they don’t feel they can safely go public until he retires to write his memoirs, which cause something of a stir but ultimately are hailed as a brave move (and a good story besides).
> 
> Neither of them had any children, but they were always very close to Edmund’s nephews and nieces, particularly Lucy and Tom’s girls, and enjoyed being part of a family that way. In the summer holidays they took the kids on sailing and camping trips and taught them all about knots and woodcraft and things, and told them Narnia stories. They died old and happy, a few weeks apart, and left a lot of money to the Battersea Dogs’ Home and Stonewall.
> 
> Oh, AND? As a doctor, Lucy cured cancer. All the kinds. And one day Susan was coming out of her fabulous designer's apartment in the Dakota building when she saw a man drawing a gun and she tackled him and totally saved John Lennon's life. And of course because of Lucy's work George Harrison didn't die. So the world still has a full set of Beatles well into the twenty-first century and it is all thanks to the Pevensie girls. AND THEY WORE LIPSTICK IF THEY FELT LIKE IT, CS LEWIS.


End file.
